Vendetta

CASSANDRA WILLOWSTONE

She shook her head. Temper your expectations, mistress. 

"Why should I?" I put my hands on my hips. "You were the one who said I needed to take this evidence to the coven and to the sheriff."

And you should, mistress. But the key you speak of may unlock doors not everyone wants opened. And do not forget Dorianna is a well versed in the art of deceit. Her vendetta against the Willowstones will not be easily overcome.

"Well, Dorianna isn't the queen of everything. I have the right to present this letter to the coven. They'll have to lift the ban," I insisted. "And if Rane re-investigates and finds out what really happened to Mom and Doug, everything will change. For the better."

Grumbler stared at me for a long moment. I fear the road you seek to travel now is fraught with peril. 

"How is that any different from the road I've been on?"

If you believe someone else murdered your mother and Douglas Jones then you must also believe the murderer will be willing to end more lives to prevent discovery. Therefore the lives of you and your sisters may be in danger. You must remain cautious and vigilant, mistress. 

"I will, Grumbler," I said, hoping to ease my familiar's fears—and my own. I wanted to believe that my cat was overreacting, but despite Grumbler's flair for the dramatic, her advice was always sound. The idea that a killer might come after my family opened a pit in my stomach. 

Stay strong, mistress, offered Grumbler. We shall prevail.

I looked down at the letter. Should I call Rane and show it to him first? Reluctance filled me. What if he wanted to keep the note? It would be considered evidence, right? I wanted a new investigation. And I wanted the Willowstone name cleared. The coven had the power to do both.

When they examined the letter and realized my mother was innocent, they would reinstate the Willowstones. And they would want to know what really happened, too. The coven would be a powerful ally in my quest for the truth. 

I needed to show the letter to the coven first. Then tomorrow, I would call Evan and ask for his help. Decision made, I folded the letter and tucked it into my back pocket. 

"I need to show April and May." 

If you are going to the house of Harold, I will stay here and take a nap. Grumbler sauntered out of the kitchen. 

I didn't bother putting on shoes, though I risked getting stickers in my feet. I really needed to do something about Mrs. Moore's unkempt yard. The warped wood of the porch poked at my soles as I knocked on the front door. 

May opened it, her expression irritated. She pressed her fingers against her lips. 

"That old hag just went to sleep," she whispered. "If you wake her up, April and I will leave you alone with her and her horrible dog." She shook her head. "I've babysat toddlers with better dispositions."

"How is she feeling?" I asked as I stepped inside the house and shut the door behind me. 

"Better, I think. She's griping a lot more, so her energy's definitely up."

"Where's April?"

"In the kitchen. We enacted a silence spell so cleaning that cesspit wouldn't disturb Her Royal Pain."

I followed my sister into the kitchen where I found April finishing up the dishes in the sink. The counters had been scrubbed clean.

All the items that had been scattered everywhere this morning had either been put away or straightened into neat rows against the backsplash.

The appliances sparkled and the floor shone. The sweet scent of vanilla had replaced the stench of the garlic. 

"Wow," I said. 

"This whole place is a giant mess," said May. She parked herself next to April and began drying the dishes resting in the wooden rack. "And PS, Mrs. Moore needs a dishwasher."

"Looks like she found two," I teased. 

"Not to mention two of the best healers in Garden Grove," said April without arrogance. My sisters were quite good at the healing arts. "We made her our jasmine and vanilla flu tea—the one we came up with last year. That garlic and cayenne pepper mixture is awful."

"Hey," I protested. "It works. I gave it to you and May plenty of times."

May made a face. "Why do you think we crafted our own? That stuff tasted like a sheep's butt covered in hot sauce."

"Oh yeah? How many Tabasco-coated sheep anuses have you licked?" I asked. 

"Gross!" April and May said together. 

I snickered. 

April washed the last mug in the sink, placed it in the rack, and then grabbed a tea towel from the counter. As she dried her hands, she turned to face me. "Why are you home so early?"

"Pete the Pincher fired me."

"What?" May whirled around. She took the tea towel from our sister and dried her hands, too. "Why?"

"Because Dorianna demanded it." I told them about my morning—Carol's rude behavior at the dry cleaners, my errands at Narrow's and the watch repair shop, meeting the new sheriff, my interaction with Sara at the coffee shop, falling on my face in the real estate office, and Dorianna's attempt to have me arrested for stealing her Rolex. 

"That's it," said April, her expression furious. "We're going to…"

"…hex her," finished May, her face mirroring her twin's fury. "Ants in her pants. No… ants in her hoo-ha." She looked at April. "Yes?"

"To start with," muttered April darkly. "I'll give her two left feet. See how well her Prada heels fit after that!"

"Forget it," I said. "Hexing her is a bad idea and you two know it. Although you get high marks for your creativity." I plucked Doug's letter from my back pocket and handed it to April. "Look what I found."

April unfolded the paper, read it, and then handed it to May. She read it, too, and then they both turned their gazes on me.

"Where did you…" said April.

"…get this?" asked May.